


Some Friends

by Rospberry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Explicit Language, M/M, One Shot, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-08
Updated: 2008-01-08
Packaged: 2018-08-19 14:57:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8213233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rospberry/pseuds/Rospberry
Summary: Harry's angry and Draco knows who's really to blame. But does Harry really want to hear the truth? Or are his friends more important to him than his relationship with Draco?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Not for fans of Hermione and Ron. If you adore them then this fic is not for you: it paints a less than flattering picture of their friendship with Harry.

Disclaimer: Characters from the Harry Potter Universe belong to JK Rowling and are used without permission but with no intent to defraud. 

Many thanks to my fantastic beta bewarethesmirk.

*

Harry Potter threw open the living room door of the flat he shared with his partner and strode into the room.

"Why is it, even after all this time, you can still be a complete and utter bastard?" Harry was angry, angrier than he had been for years, and the sight of Draco Malfoy arching one eyebrow as he looked up from the book he was reading served only to incense him further. 

"Sorry?" Draco said, laying down the book on the arm of the chair. "What exactly am I meant to have done this time?"

Harry began to tug off his jacket, thought better of it, and shrugged it back on. "You bloody well know what you've done."

"No, please… enlighten me. It's hard to determine which particular one, of my many transgressions, you may be referring to." Draco's dry tone made Harry's skin crawl, and the urge to pull out his wand and hex the smug bastard was almost overwhelming.

"I saw Ron today," he said through gritted teeth.

"How delightful for you." When Harry kept glaring at him, unspeaking, Draco tilted his head, blond strands of hair falling across his eyes. "So, I'm to understand Weasley has something to do with this?"

"He told me what you said."

Draco's thumb rubbed at his eyebrow and then swept back, tucking the errant hair behind his ear. "Which was…?"

"Which was what you called Hermione." Harry could feel the beginnings of a headache throbbing at his temple.

"Ah."

Harry stared. "Ah?" he said. "Is that all you can say, 'ah'?"

"I fear that, in your current frame of mind, anything else I say might just make the situation worse."

"'Sorry' might be a start. Or 'I didn't mean it'."

Draco ran a tongue across his lower lip, dropping his gaze to the book as he ran a finger along its spine. "Well, yes, but I refuse to lie just to make you feel better."

Harry blinked, a knot forming in his throat that was released as an incredulous bubble of laughter. "You not lie? That's all you fucking do."

Draco's head snapped up, and the first sign of real emotion flickered across his face. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"

"Oh, let me think…" Harry took a step forwards. "How about the promises that you'd be – what was it – courteous to my friends? That you'd treat them with respect? That you wouldn't, the second I wasn't there, call Hermione that 'Mudblood wife of yours'?"

Draco's expression was darkening, but Harry wasn't done. "All you've ever done since we've been together is insult them. They've been nothing but nice to you, but you still treat them like they're scum; like you, being a Malfoy, are somehow better than they are." Harry's laugh turned cruel. "As if that's something to be proud of."

The book clattered to the floor as Draco stood. Two fluid steps and he was in front of Harry. "They have been nice to me, have they? Is that what they tell you? I'm so glad, _Potter_ , that you have such a balanced view."

"Of course they've been nice to you." Harry looked up at the blond, refusing to take a step back. "I've never heard them–"

"You've never heard," Draco spoke over him. "That's just it. You've. Never. Heard. You weren't there when Weasley gave me the 'I don't trust you for a second' speech, or the Mud…Granger warned me exactly what she would do if I did anything to hurt you."

"They were just being protective," Harry said defensively.

"So Weasley calling me a…let me get this right…'a slimy, scheming twat who was after your money' is him being protective? Or Granger inferring that I was no better than a Death Eater, and if it was down to her I'd be in Azkaban, was her being pleasant? Forgive me, Potter, if I fail to see it that way."

"I'm sure they didn't mean it like that."

"Oh, I'm very sure they meant what they said, what they have continually said over the past few years whenever you were out of earshot," Draco said. "I was willing to put up with it for _you_. But do you know what, Potter," he took a step closer, grey eyes sparking with anger, "I've just about had enough of coming second to your so-called friends."

"What the fuck are you talking about now?" Harry met Draco's glare, feeling heat rising to his cheeks. "How the hell has your insulting Hermione suddenly become their fault? Or mine?"

"Because you always…" Draco stopped, shaking his head. He took a step back, and then another, letting out a long, slow exhalation. "Never mind," he said levelly, his composure slipping back into place. "I'm sorry for insulting your friend, Harry. Please give her my apologies. I'll send some flowers, or maybe an owl." He began to turn away, and Harry stepped forwards, pulling him back around with a hand on his arm.

"No way are you walking away from this, Draco. Because I always _what_?" 

Draco shook his head again. "Forget I said anything. Just…please," he tried to pull his arm free of Harry's grip, "just let it go."

"No." Harry's grip tightened. "Tell me what you were going to say, or I swear, I'm walking out of that door and not coming back."

There was a sudden silence, both men staring at each other in shock. Harry hadn't meant to say that, the words had just come out, but as the seconds ticked away his resolve strengthened. If Draco wasn't willing to be honest with him, then what hope did their relationships have? But he could see, from the way Draco's eyes narrowed, that the blond had other ideas.

"If what we have means so little to you," Draco said quietly, "then by all means, leave."

Harry's fingers fell from Draco's arm, and he swallowed. "I just want you to be honest with me," he said. "Stop lying."

"Since we've been together I've never lied to you, Harry. Not once."

"That's not what Ron…" Harry's words died off as he saw Draco's face go blank, all trace of emotion abruptly vanishing from the aristocratic features. 

Draco was looking at him as he would a stranger, and his voice held the same dispassion. "I thought you said you were leaving?"

Harry looked at him, an icy cold chill forming in the pit of his stomach. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, and he snapped his mouth closed again. 

Draco smiled bitterly. "Give my regards to your friends," he said. "I'll do my best to make sure our paths don't cross again." And Harry wasn't sure who he was referring to, himself, or Ron and Hermione. 

This time, when Draco turned away, Harry didn't stop him.

He stood in the centre of their living room, watching the man he had chosen to spend his life with walk towards their bedroom door. He couldn't think, didn't know what to say. What the hell had just happened? 

Draco pushed the bedroom door open and paused, not turning around as he spoke. "I'll have my things out of the flat by tomorrow. I hope that won't inconvenience you too much."

He sounded, strange, brittle, and still Harry couldn't think, managing an abrupt, "Fine," although that was far from the words he should be saying. _Please don't go… What did I do? Draco, for God's sake, STOP._ But he stood silently and watched as the bedroom door closed with a soft click.

He didn't know whether to go or stay. Whether to charge into the bedroom and demand Draco explain what he had done wrong... That made Harry pause – what had he done wrong? _Nothing_. He'd done nothing wrong; it was Draco who had insulted Hermione; Draco, who had, yet again, shown how little respect he had for Harry by hurting those he held most dear. Righteous anger bubbled in Harry's chest. And he had the cheek to try and make Harry feel guilty about it? Well, fuck that, and fuck Draco sodding Malfoy. If the twat thought that by playing the martyr Harry would beg him to stay, then he was in for a shock. Harry didn't need him; he had _friends_ , people who really cared about him, and didn't just pretend to be his friend so they could get amnesty from the Wizengamot. 

He knew that wasn't fair, that Draco had gone against everything he had been brought up to believe in to stand at Harry's side, but Harry was angry. And hurt.

He spun on his heel and started towards the door of the living room, pulling it open and taking one step into the chilled hallway beyond.

"So, you are actually going to leave?"

The words, sharply spoken, made Harry pause, and he turned to face Draco, who was leaning against the frame of the bedroom door, arms folded, one elegant ankle hooked over the other.

"I thought that's what you wanted?"

Grey eyes regarded him coldly. "It was you who made the suggestion, not I."

"For fuck's sake, Draco, I don't get you sometimes. Do you want me to go or not?" 

"It's entirely your decision. But if you go, then be assured that I will not be here when you return."

Harry took a step back into the room. "You'd just go? Just like that?"

"Again, I repeat, it was not I who voiced the desire to leave," Draco said. 

The headache was a constant throb now, and Harry furrowed his brow. It was hard to hold onto the anger when he'd forgotten exactly what he was meant to be angry about. "Please, Draco, just tell me what's going on."

"You are deciding what is most important to you."

"What? What sort of stupid answer is that?"

Draco shook his head. "If you don't understand, then there is really very little point in continuing this discussion, is there?"

There was something big he was missing, Harry knew, but he couldn't work it out. Why was Draco so upset? Their argument was nothing new; in fact, it was pretty much the only thing they argued about with any seriousness. Draco just couldn't accept Harry's friends, and Harry could not forgive Draco for it.

"Is this just about Ron and Hermione?"

" _Just_ about Ron and Hermione?" Draco laughed. "Harry, you can be so completely and utterly oblivious sometimes."

"Bloody hell, I'm trying to understand," Harry snapped. "Excuse me if I'm not quite as clever as you; I'm just a thick little half-blood, remember?"

Draco squeezed his eyes closed, unfolding his arms to rub a hand across his face. When he opened his eyes, he looked tired, and he let his fall to his sides. "I've never called you a half-blood. I've never called you thick. Well, not since school, anyway, and even then I didn't mean it." 

Harry waited.

"I love you, Harry, I really do, but I can't keep on being second best in your life."

Harry frowned. "You aren't…"

Draco raised a hand, motioning for him to keep quiet. "Yes, I am. And I was okay with it, for a while. But I can't do it anymore; I can't stand by and watch them use you and not say anything to stop it."

Harry was completely lost. "Use me? What…?"

"Your friends use you, Harry, they always have. You are just too blind to see it."

Draco was talking nonsense; he'd lost his mind, or… or… he was jealous. Yes, Harry thought, he's jealous. "You're talking bollocks."

"Am I?" Draco said. "Really? Think about it, Harry. How many times have you turned to them for help, only to find them not there?"

"They've always been there for me. They were there long before you." It was a cruel comment, and Harry saw Draco's eye twitch as he said it, but what Draco was saying was also cruel, and a lie.

"So, I'm wrong to think that Ron stopped talking to you when you competed in the Triwizard Tournament? That he was jealous?"

"That's not fair, he was…"

"And when you were hunting for the Horcruxes; did you not tell me he abandoned you then, too?"

"You're twisting what happened."

"What about the battle with Voldemort, who stood by your side then? I can't recall your friends at that final gathering. Were they there to save you when your life blood was spilling out of your body?"

"They had to protect their families, for fuck's sake." Harry's was almost shouting, and he lowered his voice, glaring at Draco. "You're twisting everything to make it sound all wrong."

"I'm not twisting a thing; I'm just stating what happened."

Harry shook his head in denial. "No, it didn't happen like that. Yeah, okay, so Ron and I fell out a few times, but Hermione was always there."

"Doing what exactly? Did she take your side against Ron? Stand proud in her support of you?"

Harry thought back to his fourth year, and the painful memories of Ron's jealousy-inspired silence. Hermione had done her best to keep their friendship strong, but she had found it hard to do it openly. "She tried," he said finally.

"And what about their engagement?"

"What about it?" Harry looked at Draco with genuine puzzlement.

"How long did it take them to tell you?"

A squirreling tremble in Harry's stomach made him pause. "They told me."

"Yes, but how long?"

"They were trying to keep it a secret; they didn't want everyone to know."

Draco tilted his head. "And are you classed as 'everyone'? I thought that you were important to them, their closest friend? Surely they didn't keep it a secret from you?"

"You know they did, you prick." Harry was irritated. Why was Draco bringing up things he didn't want to dwell on; the past was the past, there was no point thinking about it. 

A tight smile was on Draco's mouth, and he kept on. "So when they did share the secret, you were the first they told?"

"No," Harry said softly. 

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I said, 'no'," Harry bit out. "They told Neville. And Ginny. But it was no big deal, you're making too much out of it."

"Don't give me that," Draco snapped. "I was there, remember? I saw how much it hurt you."

"That's not true. I… It… It was understandable. They needed to tell someone, and Ginny was family."

"And Neville?" Draco asked, pushing off the door frame and crossing the room in swift strides to stand before Harry.

"He was married to Ginny." Harry's throat was tight with emotion, the hurt he had felt at the time still raw. "Draco, I don't understand what this has to do with…"

"It's got everything to do with this." Draco's hands grasped Harry's upper arms, holding him still. Harry knew he was trembling, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. "It took them two months to tell you their big secret, after they had told their entire family, and after the story had been leaked to _The Prophet_. And even then, they only called you after I confronted them."

Harry's eyes widened as he looked at Draco, stunned. "What?"

"You didn't know that, did you? I heard through the grapevine about their joyous 'news', just before it went to press, and I Flooed them. Oh, they were horrified that I called, and most offended at my assertion they were negligent in their friendship. But at least they told you."

"You knew before I did?"

"Yes, I did. Everyone did."

"But why…?"

"Because they are thoughtless and selfish. It did not even occur to them that you would have loved to share their secret; they live under the misguided belief that you would be jealous of their happiness." 

"Jealous? Why on earth would I be jealous?"

"You are poor Harry Potter, the orphan brought up by uncaring Muggles, and to tell you of their good news would only serve to make you feel even more worthless than you do already."

"But I don't feel worthless," Harry said.

"I know."

"And I'm not bloody poor."

"Something I also pointed out to them," Draco said.

"Where the hell do they got off thinking things like that?"

"Because they are excuses they make to themselves for failing to put any effort into your friendship. They like being able to claim the famous Harry Potter as their dearest friend, and take for granted you will always be there for them – as you always have." Draco sounded scornful. "You, Harry, are meant to stand ready, waiting for the moment they remember you exist."

"They don't seriously think like that, do they?" Harry asked, still unwilling to believe what Draco was saying. 

Draco didn't answer immediately; he let go of Harry's arms and took a step back, running a hand through his hair. He seemed to make a decision as he lifted his head and met Harry's eyes. "Do you know what spurred me to call Hermione a Mudblood?"

"No."

"I found out that she's four months pregnant."

Blood rushed to Harry's brain, buzzing in his ears, and he felt the world shift a little. "Pregnant?" he said numbly. "She's pregnant?"

Draco was watching him carefully, hand half raised as though to steady him, but not touching. "Yes. They've told their family and a few of the staff at Hogwarts. It was Minerva that informed me during our staff meeting. She thought we knew."

"They never told me." Harry knew he sounded like a whining child and hated himself for it, but it hurt. It hurt more than it should; it wasn't like it was the first time, and he had become so good at forgiving them for it. Who was he, after all, to expect special treatment? There were far more important people in their lives than him; he had no right to expect any special consideration. 

As though hearing his thoughts, Draco frowned; an uncharacteristic expression on his unlined face. "They _should_ have told you, Harry. They bloody well should have."

The swearing was unusual as well, and Harry blinked once, twice. "They'll have had their reasons," he finally said.

A fist gripped the front of his jacket roughly, and Draco shook him. "Don't you dare, Harry. Don't you dare make excuses for them; they've no right to treat you the way they do, to make you feel so useless about yourself. Do you know how much it tears me apart to hear you speak after you've visited with them for a few hours? They make you think you are nothing. _You_ ," his voice was incredulous, "you, who have contributed more to this world than they could even dream."

Harry laughed, embarrassed. "Don't be daft." 

"I am many things, but I am never 'daft'," Draco said. "I have just had enough. I am not willing to stand by any longer and see you belittled, or worse, ignored. I can put up with anything they choose to throw at me, but I won't stand by and let them hurt you again and again, and if you expect me to do that then maybe you _should_ leave."

He spoke the words, but did not release his grip, and Harry was overwhelmed by the intensity of emotion in the grey eyes boring into him. He didn't trust his own voice, certain that it would crack, and instead he stepped forwards, raising his own hand to thread his fingers in Draco's fine hair.

The blond's brows furrowed further. "Harry? What are you…?"

"Staying," Harry managed to say. "If you want me to?"

"If I want you to?" Draco repeated, a tremor in his voice. A slight smile graced his lips. "I'll always want you, you idiot."

"I'm not an idiot," Harry said. "I thought that's what you said." 

"For Merlin's sake," Draco breathed, lowering his head and capturing Harry's mouth, feeling the smile on Harry's lips as they opened under his.

Their tongues danced, gently at first, hands hesitantly pulling at Harry's jacket, Draco's belt, Harry's shirt. Stumbling steps across the room as their fingers moved with more determination; the shirt falling to the floor, the two of them breaking reluctantly apart only to free Draco from his jumper, trousers inelegantly tugged down and pulled free of feet constantly propelling them in jerking steps towards the bedroom. 

But they didn't make it. The wall by the bedroom door reverberated as Harry pushed Draco back against it. Hands fought for control, teeth and skin clashed, and the remnants of their clothes were tossed haphazardly to the side as they thrust against each other. Gasps of pleasure sounded around the room, throaty grunts echoing with each moist slap of skin against skin: 'fucking hell', 'sweet Merlin', and 'Draco, oh God, don't stop', the only words from their lips. And then they were crying out, arching back, pressing so hard against each other that they were as one, and for a moment time stood still.

And then it was over, and Harry was sagging against Draco's chest, trying to wipe away tears that were leaking from his eyes before the blond could see them.

Draco caught Harry's wrist, and held it away from his face, his other hand coming from between them to lift Harry's chin.

"Why, Potter, you wouldn't be crying, would you?"

"'Course not," Harry denied. "It's sweat, that's all."

Draco smile tenderly. "Of course it is." He bent his head and pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead, amused when the shorter boy scowled.

"Leave off, would you," Harry snapped, trying to pull his hand free and step back.

"Where do you think you're going?" Draco asked. "You aren't under the misguided impression that we're finished?"

Harry paused, looking up at the blond. "Not finished?" The slight frown on his face cleared as he felt Draco stir against his thigh. "Bloody hell, Draco."

"What?" Draco asked innocently. "I suggest we take this to the bedroom, to the bed, where I can fully enforce what it means to me that you're staying."

Harry swallowed as he saw Draco's predatory smile. "I…uh-huh," he stuttered.

Draco's free hand moved to his shoulder, gently pushing him back so they could both step clear of the wall, and then he was tugging him by the wrist towards the bedroom. "Come on, Harry, I have a point to make; a thorough, forceful point, that I shall make again and again until I am satisfied you understand."

Harry allowed himself to be led, trying not to grin too widely, wanting to give Draco the pleasure of thinking, for the moment at least, he had control. 

But with each step Harry took, he felt his resolve grow; he was no-one's puppet, he was Harry Potter, and he would never again allow anyone to make him feel anything less than that. And if sometimes he wanted to be Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy's boyfriend, then that, he thought, was fine too.

He knew that there were issues to be resolved; he would have to decide whether Ron and Hermione's friendship was important enough to risk what he had with Draco. He knew in his heart it wasn't, not even close, but he wasn't ready to throw their friendship away. No matter what Draco said, they had been through a lot together, and so he would talk to them, explain how he felt, and maybe they would understand. 

But that would be later. Here and now he was with Draco: Draco who believed in him, Draco who loved him. Harry's faltering grin widened. Draco who, at this moment, was practically dragging him towards the bed.

And so he allowed Draco to make his point. Repeatedly. Just to be sure.


End file.
